


Greg

by riotcow



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Don't underestimate the working class you snob, First Kiss, I like Greg don't you?, Kissing, M/M, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft isn't used to people who don't care about his threats, but he likes it, but not too many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotcow/pseuds/riotcow
Summary: A slightly saucy, slightly romantic first kiss for Mycroft and Greg. Post-TFP, post-Sherrinford."Greg pulled back just a little, but it was clearly just a hint to Mycroft to slow himself down, which, being a fast learner, he did. And he quickly discovered that Greg was correct, and that perhaps there were nuggets of wisdom that someone like Greg might possess that someone like Mycroft, despite his vast archives of knowledge, did not."





	Greg

“I didn’t summon you here.”

“Didn’t say ya did. And the correct wording is still ‘request your presence.’ I just thought I’d stop by to see how you’re doing, after all that up in Sherrinford.”

“Sherlock told you to do this. This is ridiculous. I am _fine_.”

“Yes, you sound fine.” The sarcasm in Greg’s voice was very mild.

Mycroft frowned at him, then stood up and walked around his desk. “Tell Sherlock --”

“You _two_. Good god, man. I don’t live and breathe at the beck and call of anyone named Holmes.”

“Well, technically --”

“Shut it, I’m not done. I’m here to see how you’re doing, because I like you and I was worried about you. Is there anything on God’s green Earth that I could possibly do to convince you to behave like a human being and receive my visit in that spirit?”

Mycroft stood there for a moment in silence. “That was… really quite eloquent, Gregory.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

Mycroft found himself suppressing a smile. It was worrisome that at some point through the years he’d found himself beginning to use Detective Inspector Lestrade’s first name without having made a conscious decision to do so. That was a rare event for Mycroft, and even rarer was his decision not to examine his own unconscious motivations in the matter. It gave him some sense of having regained a little control to at least insist on calling the man by his full name despite his preference to the contrary.

“I’m _not_ surprised,” Mycroft said. “I’ve witnessed your eloquence before. I simply thought you needed to have had a few drinks. Your speech at John’s wedding two years ago was truly touching.”

Greg’s brows knit. “You weren’t _at_ John’s wedding.”

“Did you think that means that I was not listening?”

Greg chuckled, genuinely amused. “You’re absolutely sodding serious, aren’t you?”

“Well, the wedding of Doctor John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, flatmate, partner, and blogger to Sherlock Holmes, _did_ have implications as a legitimate national security event. Happily, we had half of Scotland Yard on hand.”

Greg grew serious, looking Mycroft over. “You don’t seem half bad, considering that your sister just attempted to murder some subset of the three of you, literally taking over the asylum in the process.”

Mycroft looked stern at how much Greg knew. “If you repeat a word of that --”

Greg bristled and shifted forward slightly. “Do you really think that you need to give me those sorts of warnings anymore, _Mike?”_

Mycroft felt himself grow warm at the use of one of his mother’s horrid nicknames.

“It’s --” _Mr. Holmes,_ he thought to himself. “Mycroft,” he finished weakly.

For some reason, that made the DI smirk at him.

Mycroft felt a surge of irritation accompanied by the desire to regain some measure of his dignity. Warning bells went off somewhere in the back of his overactive mind, but, flustered, he ignored them.

“Besides which, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft heard himself continuing, “I do not believe that I ever gave you permission to use my first name.”

Greg’s smile grew wider, into a grin. “That’s fine, as I never _asked_ for your permission, _Mycroft.”_

Mycroft stared at him, looking briefly dumbfounded, and then he stepped forward and closed the remaining space between them, grabbing the unprepared DI with both hands and mashing their mouths together.

The kiss began awkwardly, but Greg only stiffened briefly -- a half-second during which Mycroft began to panic intensely -- before he softened, changed his stance, raised one hand to the back of Mycroft’s neck, and kissed him back.

In fact, Greg pulled back just a little, but it was clearly just a hint to Mycroft to slow himself down, which, being a fast learner, he did. And he quickly discovered that Greg was correct, and that perhaps there were nuggets of wisdom that someone like Greg might possess that someone like Mycroft, despite his vast archives of knowledge, did not.

Slower kissing _was_ better. More time to collect data that way.

He felt Greg huff into his mouth in amusement, as if he’d heard Mycroft’s thoughts, which was not possible.

Greg pulled back slowly, so that Mycroft was certain that it was not a rejection. The taste of coffee and cigarettes lingered on his tongue, and shockingly, it was not unpleasant.

Mycroft smiled. “I’ll make you a deal, then. If you address me as ‘Mycroft,’ I’ll address you as ‘Greg.’ Greg.”

Greg smiled back. “You absolutely have a deal, Mycroft.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> This is a tiny, quickly-edited ficlet, and probably the only Mycroft/Greg story I'll ever write, but after re-watching the end of The Final Problem recently, parts of the dialogue popped into my head and amused me, and then the scenario unfolded and I decided to capture it.
> 
> If you find any errors please let me know in the comments and I will correct them. Thank you!


End file.
